Pumpkin Spice and Brimstone
by AlElizabeth
Summary: Oneshot set Season 7. Sam just wants to enjoy his pumpkin spice latte in peace. Lucifer however, has other ideas.


A rush of warm air scented with coffee, steamed milk and sugary syrups greeted Sam Winchester as he pushed open the door to the Starbucks. Stepping inside the coffee shop, he wasn't at all surprised to see that it was jam-packed with customers, even this early in the morning.

Pausing to scrub a hand over his face, the hunter got into line behind a middle-aged woman with bleached-blonde hair, a cell phone glued to her ear.

"I told you I needed the project ready for Monday," she hissed, "Monday, Jennifer, that's _today_."

"Feeling fancy this morning, Sammy?" Lucifer asked from behind the hunter.

Sam ignored him and moved forward a couple of steps as the man at the front of the line got his drink and moved away.

"Does Dean know you're here?" the Devil asked and Sam clenched his jaw.

The truth was, Dean didn't know that he had left the motel room they were staying in. Sam didn't want his brother to worry but, damn it, he just needed some time to himself. He already had Lucifer breathing down his neck, he didn't need his brother doing it as well.

"He'll call if he's missing me," Sam muttered under his breath and moved forwards again.

"Sure he will," Lucifer agreed, "All the while panicking because you're not there."

Sam was not going to feel guilty. He wasn't a child. He would not make Dean treat him like one. He was not going to stay in the motel room and wait around for his brother just because Dean feared he'd have some sort of mental collapse any second. He was not some ticking time-bomb that was going to blow up if not properly supervised.

The angry businesswoman in front of Sam was now the first in line and between berating Jennifer, she placed her order with the barista.

Sam hunched his shoulders instinctively when he felt a chill on the back of his neck; Lucifer standing uncomfortably close and breathing down the back of his jacket.

"Hey," a voice growled behind Sam and he dared a look over his shoulder to see a middle-aged man wearing an orange vest scowling at him, "Your turn, buddy."

Sam turned to see the woman with the cell phone had disappeared and he was now at the front of the line, the young barista giving him a somewhat uneasy smile.

"Sorry," Sam muttered and stepped forward.

"What can I get for you?" the barista asked, smile plastered on her face.

"A lobotomy," Lucifer spoke up from beside Sam.

"A pumpkin-spice latte with four shots of espresso," Sam told her, voice raised to be heard over Lucifer.

"Um… what size?" the girl asked, her smiling starting to wither slightly.

"Grande," Sam told her.

"Name?" she asked without looking up and Sam told her.

The barista typed the order into the computer, told Sam the price and snatched the bills from his hand when he held out the money to her. She dropped the hunter's change onto the counter, forcing Sam to slide it into one cupped hand. Stepping to the side, he shoved the money into his pocket.

"Well, that was awkward," Lucifer muttered.

Sam glared at him.

"Can't you just be quiet for five minutes?"

The Devil grinned, blue eyes sparkling like ice, "Sorry Sammy, I just can't help myself."

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

As he waited for his drink, Lucifer continued to annoy him. Some cheesy pop song was playing on the radio and the Devil sang along, loudly, much to Sam's exasperation. He was actually surprised no one else could hear Lucifer belting out the lyrics about young, unrequited love.

"Sam?" another barista called out and the hunter took his drink with a quickly muttered "thanks."

Not yet ready to go back to the motel, Sam found a seat and sipped cautiously at the hot, sweet, highly-caffeinated beverage. Lucifer took a seat across from Sam, slumping down as though bored, arms crossed over his chest like a petulant child.

"What's with the face?" Sam asked, unable to help himself.

"You're such a killjoy," Lucifer pouted.

"I'm not here to entertain you," Sam growled but knew, even as he did so, it was the wrong thing to say.

Lucifer grinned widely, showing teeth and Sam cringed back in his seat before he could stop himself.

A high-pitched scream cut through the air, halting all conversation in its tracks. Sam looked to the counter to see the young barista who had handed him his drink stagger back from a machine that heated milk, a billow of steam rapidly dissipating. The girl's trembling hands clutched at her face as her coworkers stared at her in shocked silence.

"Brittany!" the girl who had taken Sam's order hurried forward and pulled the other barista's hands away from her face to reveal her lobster-red skin blistering and peeling, eyes as white as hard-boiled eggs .

"Stop it!" Sam turned away from the sight and hissed at Lucifer.

The Devil raised his eyes, "Fine. Spoilsport."

Sam dared to look back at the counter to see Brittany chatting happily with another barista.

Shaking his head, Sam returned his attention to his drink. Wrapping his hands around the warm cardboard cup, he closed his eyes for a moment.

"Please, just give me five minutes of peace," he whispered to himself, "That's all I'm asking. Five fucking minutes alone."

"Sammy, who are you talking to?"

The hunter's eyes snapped open at the sound of his brother's voice and he stared at his sibling sitting across the table from him.

"Dean?" Sam asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," his brother replied, "You weren't there when I woke up."

"How'd you find me?" Sam asked.

Dean smirked, "C'mon, you don't think I'd know you'd end up here for some caramel mocha-frappe latte with peppermint sprinkles or whatever?"

Sam shrugged, feeling the corners of his mouth tugging upwards despite himself.

Dean leaned forwards, elbows on the table.

"In all seriousness though, I was worried about you."

Sam glanced at his drink, "Sorry."

"We need to do something about this," Dean continued and Sam looked up sharply, "About what?"

"This," Dean gestured as though taking in the store, "You wandering away."

"I wasn't _wandering_, Dean," Sam argued, "I came here for a drink. I was going to come back to the motel."

His brother pursed his lips, "Sure, you knew what was going on _today _but how long is it going to be like this? How long until you can't tell what's real and what's not?"

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, eyes narrowed.

"We both know this can't last forever Sammy," Dean said, "Everyday a little bit more of Hell rears itself in that head of yours."

Sam shook his head, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't pretend you don't understand," Dean argued, "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You know as well as I do that one of these days you're going to end up completely losing it."

Sam sat back, shocked that his brother was speaking like this.

"I have it under control, Dean," he hissed.

To his surprise, his brother reached out and touched his hand, "You _think _you do, Sammy, but I can see the truth."

Sam moved his hand away from Dean's.

"Stop it," he told Dean.

"I just don't want you to get hurt, Sammy," his brother insisted.

"We are not having this conversation," Sam told Dean and made to stand. Dean stopped him however, by reaching out and grabbing his wrist, hard.

"It's going to be okay, Sammy," Dean spoke in a placating tone, "Just stay with me and I'll look after you."

Sam, disgusted at being spoken to like a child, pulled out of his brother's grip.

"Fuck you," he growled and turned, running right into another customer and dropping his drink, latte splattering all over the tile floor. He didn't even apologize but stalked out of the Starbucks and started down the sidewalk, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

"Don't walk away, Sammy!" Dean's voice called out from behind, "I'm just trying to help you!"

Sam gritted his teeth and ignored the call, righteous anger bubbling up inside him the further away from the coffee shop he got.

Finally he arrived back at the motel room and pushed the door open, stalking inside. Dean looked up from where he was sitting on the end of his bed, watching TV.

"How did you?" Sam asked, surprised to find Dean had beaten him to the room but then paused as realization dawned on him.

"Damn it," he grumbled.

"You okay?" Dean asked, switching off the television with the remote.

Sam shrugged out of his jacket, "As okay as I can be."

Dean frowned, confused for a moment.

"Don't worry about it," Sam muttered.

"Where were you?" Dean asked.

"Went for a walk," Sam replied.

"And you couldn't pick up breakfast?" his sibling asked.

Sam couldn't help but smile. Of course Dean- the real Dean- may worry about him but no way would he treat him like he was a little kid, or worse, stupid. Dean would look out for him the same way he always had, without smothering him or making him feel inferior.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Nothing," Sam shook his head, "You want to get something to eat?"

Dean stood up, "I thought you'd never ask."

**Author's Note:**

Just another little fall-themed story that popped into my head last night.

Please leave a review if you enjoyed.


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